


Chains

by Cunninglinguist



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blood, Bloodplay, Bodily Fluids, Body Modification, Body Worship, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Chains, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Cutting, Daddy Kink, F/M, Knifeplay, Lingerie, Negan Smut Week, Negan has zero chill, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Ownership, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Scarification, Shameless Smut, Smut, St. Andrew's Cross, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cunninglinguist/pseuds/Cunninglinguist
Summary: Negan needs to chill out; turns out that bondage and knives are perfect for that kind of thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimers: I don't own The Walking Dead, this shit is unbeta'd.

“Well? What do you think?” 

I gestured pointedly to myself once again, pointing my toes and crossing my legs languidly for emphasis.

I couldn’t help it. I was milking it, that’s for sure, but the look on his face was just too good. I knew exactly what he thought about it, but I wanted to hear him say it. 

Negan scrubbed a large hand over his beard and exhaled loudly as he raked his eyes over my body, draped intentionally across the bed. It wasn’t often that he struggled for words, which made his speechlessness at my behest that much more rewarding. I’d filed every moment like this away in my memory, somewhere dark and secret, to be pulled out and cherished at every available opportunity.

This involuntary silence was a nice change: he had been acting like such a fucking asshole earlier, I had almost lost it. I knew it was probably one of the idiot newcomer’s fault, some green as-all-hell, noncompliant motherfucker who didn’t know when to just keep his head down and do what he was told to earn his keep. 

It was clear that he had intended to spend the entire day in one of his rage-sulks: brooding, fury barely contained, spit flying from his mouth at every turn. At first, I’d given Negan space, and when he’d needed it I’d lent an ear, nodding in agreement as he’d made threats about burning faces and public spectacles. 

The reserves of my patience had run dry, however, when he’d snapped at me in the kitchen—I cant even remember what he’d said at this point, but I had shoved past him and not spoken to him for the rest of the day. Once I’d gotten some air and regained composure, I’d decided that tonight would be the perfect time for me to unveil my newest project: a basic body harness that I’d spent the last week or so constructing out of old suspenders and black thread whenever I had free time.

I’d figured that Negan’s affinity for bondage was a good indicator of how the garment would be received, and, man, was I right. Plus, I knew he’d be much more likely to stop losing his shit at everyone if he got laid, so…there was that. Everybody wins. I’m just altruistic like that. 

He stepped towards me, his eyes dark pools. The floorboards creaked beneath his boots. To maintain the façade of my confidence, I suppressed the urge to scoot away from him, a lingering side effect of his physical proximity to me (though I could do nothing to stop the slight shiver that left gooseflesh in its wake).

“Where did you get this?” he asked lowly. A fierce, palpable desire poured off of him, his energy radiating as he pulled me up to a seated position. My breathing hitched as he brushed a leather-clad finger slowly across the elastic spanning my collarbones. 

“I made it,” I said, meeting his gaze, though I nearly cracked under its intensity.

“ _Made_ it?” He smiled predatorily, leaning down so that his nose brushed mine as his hand trailed over my right breast. I inhaled sharply at the feeling of the warm leather against my stiff nipple. He grinned. “Outta what?”

“Outta some-ah!” He splayed his hand over my breast and squeezed gently, a smirk playing about his lips though his eyes remained dangerous. I sighed at his nearly tangible desire; blood rushed between my thighs—what had he asked me again?

“Some _what_?” he asked, his grip on my sensitive flesh tightening as his other hand travelled up my arm to grip my other breast roughly. I winced fleetingly— _there_ was that rage from earlier. 

I bit my lip and gazed up at him through my lashes, leaning back to avail myself to him further. I couldn’t hold out for too long like this, not when he was looking at me like he wanted to eat me alive. “Just needed some suspenders and a needle and thread,” I replied, brushing my lips over his. 

“I fucking love it,” he said, his hands abandoning my chest to caress down, down until he grabbed the ample flesh of my thighs and pushed my legs apart. “Your body looks so fucking good darlin’, all wrapped the fuck up for me.” 

I smiled and leaned up to suck his soft bottom lip into my mouth, enjoying the gentle scrape of his lovely beard against the soft skin of my face. I bit down, he gasped and pressed himself insistently between my legs. 

“Hmm, you’re in a fucking mood tonight,” he said gruffly, pulling back. I clutched at his shoulders, my fingers slipping against the leather. “Turns out, I got something for you too.”

“Oh yeah?” I nosed at his jaw in an attempt to mask my excitement before latching my lips to the side of his neck and biting down as hard as I could—he stiffened. 

Suddenly, his hands were in my hair and he was yanking my head back harshly. I grit my teeth, my heart racing. He had snapped first, the way I knew he would.

“You fucking wanna play rough?” he snarled, eyes boring into me. I nodded as much as I could, despite the fiery pain in my scalp.

“Good,” he hissed, releasing my hair before pulling me to standing. I held his gaze, challenging, but not unyielding, as he crowded me away from the bed and towards the…oh. 

His eyes glittered with intent, watching me comprehend as the pieces fell into place. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m gonna fuck the everloving fuck outta you tonight. And I’m gonna take my sweet fucking time.” 

Saliva flooded my mouth as my back hit the cool wood of the St. Andrew’s cross, Negan’s preferred apparatus of restraint (that just happened to be mine as well). Fleetingly, I reflected on what a worthy project the X-frame’s construction had been. 

He gripped my wrists roughly, his eyes dark pools of barely restrained, wrathful lust. My chest heaved as he forcefully chained each wrist to the corresponding extremity of the X-frame before kneeling to secure my ankles with the unforgiving bonds.

He stepped back to admire his work when he was finished, licking his lips wolfishly at the sight of me, utterly immobile in a spread-eagle position. My nipples stiffened and my face burned under his scrutiny. 

He shifted his weight to his back leg, rubbing his beard absently as he considered me for a long moment. I never quite knew what was going on in that head of his, but I was more than eager to find out. Growing impatient, I arched my back and pushed my wrists against their bonds, rattling the chains. 

“For someone who thought she had this whole fucking encounter all planned the fuck out, you don’t really have any fucking idea how this is gonna play out, do you?” He was pacing now, slowly, his steps deliberate as he continued to consume me with his eyes. My instincts kicked in—I tried to close my knees, but the bonds wouldn’t allow for it.

He stopped pacing. Fixing me with his gaze, he slowly removed his red scarf and set it on the bed before deliberately unzipping his jacket. Unwillingly, I parted my lips: fuck, he looked so good. I groaned as my sex pulsed. 

He cocked an eyebrow devilishly. “I gotta say,” he said, stepping forward (he was so close I could smell him). “This fuckin’ lingerie on you….”--he exhaled audibly—“makes me want to just fucking eat you alive, baby.”

“Yes,” I sighed, rolling my hips forward and struggling against the chains. “So eat me, Daddy.”

He threw his head back and laughed, the white of his teeth flashing in the dim light. “Oh, that’s good, baby.”

Just like that, his entire demeanor changed. “We’re just getting started,” he growled, his deadly serious tone prickling the hair on the back of my neck. I bit my lip. 

He reached into his back pocket and brandished his trusty switchblade. My eyes widened comically—he grinned and flicked his thumb, releasing the razor sharp blade with a soft _snikt_. Shit. I shuddered and instinctively attempted to close my legs again. 

“This,” he said. “This here is option one.”

My eyes followed the glinting blade as he brought it down, tracing the burning flesh of my right nipple with its cold, flat edge. I cried out at the striking sensation, straining against my confines. 

“And this,” he said, his breath hot against my ear, “is option fucking two.”

Not missing a beat, he reached down with his free hand to pull his Bowie knife from the harness on his thigh. My eyes rolled back in my head as he wielded both blades before me, my vision blacking out around the edges as I succumbed to sensation—one cold, flat edge pressed against the quivering flesh of my inner thigh as the other perilously grazed my collarbone. 

“Fuck,” I gasped, rolling my hips and arching my back, digging my fingernails into my palms, desperate for more. 

A smirk across his lips as he dragged the Bowie knife up my thigh, moving closer and closer to my throbbing cunt. 

“God--!” I tossed my head back, stars exploding behind my eyes as the chilled blade found the heat between my thighs, pressing against my clit through the thin fabric of my black thong. 

With a low chuckle, he slid the knife up to my hip, situating it between my flesh and the fabric of my thong. His plush lips replaced the switchblade on my nipple, and he _sucked_.

“Negan!” I cried, twisting where I was bound, and he flicked his wrist and sliced the thong off of me. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, pulling off of my nipple to lick, bite, and suck his way up my chest to my neck. I felt the less substantial flat of the switchblade press against my hip, catching the opposite strap of my thong. I bit my lip as he sliced the remaining fabric of my thong from by body and tossed it aside, revealing my dripping cunt. 

“I know you spent time making this fuckin’ thing,” he breathed, his beard scratching against my neck as the knife snaked up my side, hooking under the elastic caging my right breast. “But you can make another one, can’t you, baby?”

“Fuck the harness,” I whispered hoarsely, arching forward. Sweat beaded on my brow—he was everywhere, his mouth on my breasts, on my neck, his knives travelling in tandem up and down my body, their icy rigidity contrasting with the fiery heat of my flesh. 

“Fuck the harness,” he repeated, his voice strained. I could tell he was gone, but so was I. The chains rattled faintly in my periphery.

I gasped as he grazed the Bowie knife up my tremulous inner thigh once more before slicing my breast free with the switchblade. 

“Yeah, I know you’ve got some kind of crazy fucking fetish for my knives,” he said, alternating the flat and the sharp edge of the blade teasingly against my groin. 

I cried out sharply, body jolting dramatically as Negan slid the cold, flat edge of the blade directly against the wet, hot entrance to my body.

“You like that shit?” he murmured, his face an inch from mine. My vision swam as I undulated my hips, grinding against the Bowie knife, my eyes rolling back in my head as Negan deftly slid his switchblade between each strap and my body, slicing methodically until my harness lay in tatters on the ground.

"Fuck," I whispered hoarsely, straining in my bonds. Suddenly both knives were gone, and Negan held the hunting knife in front of my face. It glistened with evidence of my arousal.

He examined it pointedly before darting his tongue out to lick up the flat of the blade slowly, deliberately. I struggled some more, balling and unclenching my fists, trapped yet yearning for more...

He smacked his lips and pressed himself against me, relishing my whimpers, the way I leaned imploringly into him. "Tastes so fucking good baby, makes me want the real thing. Think you can be quiet while Daddy has a taste?'

I nodded vigorously--my clit throbbed in agreement.

Keeping his eyes on my face, Negan returned the switchblade to his back pocket and dropped to his knees. He deftly released the bonds around my ankles before hoisting my thighs up onto his shoulders to wrap around his face. 

I gasped at the sensation of his breath on my cunt, and whimpered when he leaned in to teasingly lick at me. 

With a groan, Negan finally cut the shit and started moving his lips, his fingers biting into my flesh as he licked and sucked. Shit, he was so fucking good at this I wanted cry, but I bit my lip and instead thrashed as hard as I could, desperate for more. 

I nearly lost control and cried out when I felt a cool blade sliding perilously up my right inner thigh. I snapped my head forward, craning my neck to meet Negan's mischievous eyes between my thighs. Pulling his mouth from me for only a second, Negan pushed my right thigh back, exposing sensitive flesh, and slowly cut a vertical line.

Lost in an exquisite pleasure/pain dichotomy, my eyes rolled back in my head. The coppery taste of blood flooded mouth as I bit my lip harder, determined to keep quiet as he plunged his tongue inside of me.

He pulled off abruptly, breathing hard for a moment before he furrowed his brow. "You're fuckin' mine, all fuckin' mine, to do with as I please," he growled, his grip bruising as he held me still to carefully cut again, and again --I fought to stay silent, fixing my eyes on the ceiling as I twisted in my chains, my stomach cramping with the effort of keeping quiet as he sliced me.

When he was finished, I exhaled audibly. Taking a moment to steel myself, I looked down and the man on his knees before me. His chest heaved, his eyes shone with possessive, profound lust as he stared at my leg, at the mark he had left upon me: a slightly crooked capital "N", carved indelibly upon me--a mark of his ownership that dripped in gorgeous vermilion rivulets down my flesh and pooled on the floor. 

"You're mine," he repeated harshly, pinning me with his gaze as he teased my cunt with his fingers, spreading me to rub at my swollen, aching clit. He bent his head to lap voraciously at the blood from my wound.

"Yours!" I whimpered, clenching desperately as he slid two long fingers inside of me, crooking them just so. The burning of his saliva on my fresh cuts mingled treacherously with the telltale, aching ecstasy in my gut. I groaned continuously, grateful he'd forgotten about the quiet rule as he licked his lips and fucked me slowly, deliberately with long, lovely fingers.

"That's it, such a good fucking girl for me," he murmured, bloody lips twisted in a malicious grin as my body writhed in its confines. "You want my cock, baby?"

Did I want it? Was he serious? I was fucking BURNING for it! 

"Yes!" I cried, pushing against him. He let up, allowing me to hook my leg over his shoulder and effectively push his beautiful, bloody face into my cunt again.

He acquiesced, simultaneously flicking his tongue against my clit and forcing his fingers deeper into me to hit that perfect spot—I arched my back and screamed, so close, so close to tipping over the edge—

"Beg for it," he growled against my clit, adding a third finger and stretching me wide as his opposite hand pressed against the N on my thigh.

"Please, Negan, please, Daddy, please please please!" I begged, uncaring of the words that spilled out of my lips.

"Please WHAT, baby?" He twisted his fingers mercilessly.

"Your cock, Daddy, please give me your cock, please Daddy, I need it so bad, wanna come on your big cock," I babbled, overcome. 

His breathing was shaky as he pulled his fingers from me and stood hurriedly, his hair a wreck, his beard slick with spit and blood. I bit my lip as he absently sucked at his fingers, licking at me like it was afterthought.  
He crushed his lips to mine in a frenzied, desperate kiss, plunging his tongue in my mouth and I almost sobbed as I tasted my blood and arousal on him. 

He unzipped his pants and spared not another moment before wrapping my legs around his waist and thrusting entirely into me. I wailed as the hot, hard length that I had been craving pushed deliciously into me.

"Fucking hell, you're so fucking tight for me baby," he murmured, his hands coming up to press my chained wrists against the wooden frame. He swiveled his hips, grinding deep within me, his moans increasing in volume as he forced us both closer to our peaks.

"Ah, fuck me! Fuck me harder, Negan!" I yelled, unable to control the words coming out of my mouth. The sweat and blood from my thigh slid against his pants and leather jacket. I whimpered when he bent his head to bite down on my neck, hard, the weight of his body pressing me against the X-frame, chains and wood biting into sensitive flesh, his thick cock buried so deep inside of me I didn't know where he ended and I began.

“Ooh, Negan!” I cried urgently, slamming against the X-frame as I felt my own orgasm unfurling rapidly with each sinful plunge of his thick cock. 

I rattled my chains and undulated my hips, frantically meeting his thrusts. My mouth hung open, drool dripping down my chin as I moaned continuously, nearly in tears. I wanted to feel him flood me with his release; I wanted him to own me inside and out.

"Gonna come in your wet fucking cunt baby," he gasped behind grit teeth, hips snapping forward. 

“Please, Negan, please, please come inside me,” I panted against his ear, the scruff of his sweat-slick jaw rubbing against my face as I tightened my thighs around his torso, pulling him deeper as I hurtled towards my climax. . 

He groaned, long and loud, his hands grasping mine tightly as he finally stilled, coming hard with a final thrust that ripped my orgasm from me so ruthlessly that I shuddered violently, screamed, and blacked out with the sheer force of it. 

When I came to, I was lying on the bed. Negan was shirtless between my thighs, carefully dabbing at my newest soon-to-be scar with an antiseptic-soaked washcloth. 

“That was intense,” I mumbled, sitting up slightly. My fingers brushed over an aching wrist. 

He smiled sleepily at me, eyes hooded as he absently rubbed my thigh. “Fuck yeah it was. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come so fucking hard before.” His fingers grazed my bare stomach. “Lay back, baby. Let Daddy take care of you.”

I nodded groggily and acquiesced, enjoying the companionable (and very welcome) silence between us until I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this kinky, self-indulgent chicanery, come talk to me about Negan on [Tumblr](http://hannibalssweaters.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are my life's blood!
> 
> This glorious Slipknot [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5A2BcC1M_6w) fueled me as I wrote this.


End file.
